


Over The Moon For Her

by ceilingfan5



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College, F/F, Humor, Slow Build, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Werewolf AU, haikyuu ladies need more love, im sorry this is so fucking long, kiyoko is a werewolf, relationships, spooky and gay, yachi is an anxious mess, yachi is just gay, yui and yachi are adorable roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:19:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5079373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceilingfan5/pseuds/ceilingfan5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yachi is head over heels for Kiyoko, but after two and a half dates, she doesn't seem to be getting any less mysterious. What could she possibly be hiding?<br/>~~~~<br/>[“I said, are you even texting her?” Yui ran a hand through her hair. “Look, I know you’re deep in puppy love, but you should start learning more about this girl. You know, talk secrets. Find out if she’s a serial killer or what have you.”</p><p>Yachi gasped. </p><p>“Oh- No- She’d never-”]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over The Moon For Her

**Author's Note:**

> A month and a half and 9.6k later, I'm finally finished. Our girls need a lot more love, and I figured this would be perfect for Halloween. Please, tell me what you think! It was a serious labor of love. Thanks to sam (coolangelsthesis) and meg for beta-ing!

Yachi Hitoka was head-over-heels for Kiyoko Shimizu. It seemed silly to say it out loud, but it sang in her veins and kept her awake at night and, honestly, it was starting to seem like a fact of the universe. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and her cheeks were pink when the barest hint of Kiyoko crossed her mind. Was it still a crush when they’d gone on three--well, two and a half--dates? That didn’t quite make them girlfriends. It was right on the edge, between almost and definitely. To some people that meant a lot, and to others it was nothing at all.

Who was she kidding? She’d had a crush since day one, since she’d run into that goddess in the liberal arts building and nearly spontaneously combusted when her design homework had exploded all over the marble tiles. And instead of looking at her disdainfully, the beautiful Kiyoko had squatted down in her tight silver-grey pencil skirt (which so excellently complemented her eyes, and oh, the subtle flash of the pink of her blouse had added just the perfect amount of color and Yachi had the whole scene memorized and replayed it more often than not before falling asleep at night) and she had smiled and handed her the papers like the bare ghost of her hand against Yachi’s skin wasn’t the kiss of an angel she’d run her fingers over a million times instead of focusing on her class lectures. It was the kind of crush that reminded her just why they called it a crush. It forced the air out of her lungs when she saw her on campus or in passing on the way to lunch. It made her ribs hurt to think of the encounter, to dream of another one. She found herself wearing her best outfits on days she knew she’d see her and holding her breath whenever she passed. She couldn't help but seek out any scrap of information she could find on the beautiful upperclassman stranger, like somehow it would give her a chance to talk to such an otherworldly being.

It was like middle school, but worse. 

She had never expected to meet her again. She especially hadn’t expected her to be equally as flustered when shoving that small, pink slip of paper into Yachi’s hands. The one that started everything. Her phone number, written in careful, adorable handwriting. 

“You can text me, if you’d like,” she’d whispered. And Yachi’s tiny gay heart had burst. It had taken her hours to calm down from the shock. She’d had to leave English class early because she was about to vibrate out of her seat. Usually she couldn’t be pulled away from that subject even though she didn’t really need it for her design major, but her brain refused to let her focus on a single non-Kiyoko thing. 

“What do you think she meant?” She laid on the floor in her room, holding the pink note up to the light like it would reveal the key to the ultimate secrets of the universe.

“I think it means she wants you to text her, Yacchan.” Yui Michimiya, her roommate, was amazingly patient throughout the whole ordeal. She kicked her legs in the air and balanced a ball on the pads of her feet expertly, rocking gently to combat gravity. She was so beautiful too, Yachi thought, but in a sort of different way from Kiyoko. 

“Yeah, but- But….R-r-romantically?? Or- or does she just-”

“Ya-ya, she drew little hearts on it. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to talk homework.” She kicked the ball into the air and caught it in her hands, sitting up. “Are you still going to dinner with me?”

“Mhm...” Yachi nodded, but her thoughts were miles away. Yui was an expert in these sorts of things, after all. Her girlfriend was gorgeous, and they seemed so happy together. But Yachi couldn’t imagine herself being romantically involved with someone like Kiyoko. They were like mismatched socks. Or maybe Yachi was a neon strawberries sort of sock and Kiyoko was a stocking with lace and a garter. 

Holy god, she could not start thinking of Kiyoko in lacy stockings. She rolled over and muffled her scream with the fluffy purple rug. That was very, very dangerous territory. 

“I’m so gay, Yu-yu.” She covered her face and moaned.

“Aren’t we all.” Yui laughed and nudged her with a foot. “C’mon, it’s okay. Just text her and let her lead the conversation, right? You can totally do this! Sit up, sit up. You’ve got this.”

Yachi took a deep breath, slapped her cheeks like Yui always did, and sat up. 

“You’re- You’re probably right! She’s- She’s probably human, right?”

“Right!”

“And we both like- things!”

“Things!”

“And we can talk- and maybe- We could-”

“That’s the spirit!!” Yui pumped a fist into the air. “You’ve got this, Yacchan. You’re gonna do great, and then you can go on double dates with us!”

Yachi paled. Dates. Real, actual dates. That had to be out of the realm of possibility. 

But it wasn’t. 

Their first date almost didn’t happen. Both of them were late, and lost, and they almost never found each other at the train station. Yachi’s phone died within minutes of her realizing she was in the wrong place, and she almost died along with it. By the time they found each other, they only had half an hour before the last train departed to stumble over how sorry they were for missing the date and how terrible it was that they wouldn’t get to do anything together. They at least agreed to try again, and Yachi cried confused-embarrassed-happy tears on her ride home alone that she hoped the tired businessmen didn’t notice.

Their second date was a chat over coffee that was almost another disaster. Clumsy hands, spilled coffee, ruined skirt. Yachi had almost died on the spot. But instead of screaming, or slapping her, or leaving, Kiyoko had laughed. Her laugh was so perfect Yachi forgot how to breathe and almost choked on her latte, rapidly changing shades of pink from embarrassment to fear to adoration to the shame of just how head-over-heels she was for this woman. 

“I hate the zipper on this skirt,” she admitted between little heart-stopping, beautifully un-angelic giggle snorts. “I was sort of looking for a way to get rid of it.”

Yachi felt like an overfilled teakettle. Staring at Kiyoko for too long was like looking directly into the sun, and she could definitely feel the heat of it on her face. She would burn herself to a crisp if it made her sun light up like that.

Their third date was better. They’d gone to a mall in the area because it was in walking distance of Kiyoko’s apartment. There was a crepe place (where Kiyoko let Yachi have her strawberry) and a store that only sold stationery (where Yachi had drooled over the art supplies and Kiyoko bought a soft little journal with stars on the front of it) and a bookstore, where they spent the majority of their time. It was quiet, the music gentle, and they poured over the stacks shoulder-to-shoulder, whispering about their favorite books and trading recommendations. 

Yachi’s favorite was the art books section, where she gently pulled out enormous, glossy book after enormous, glossy book, and they sat together in one of the almost-too-big squishy armchairs together and Yachi felt their thighs and shoulders and elbows touch and instead of looking at the glorious full color photographs, she could only watch Kiyoko examine them, gently tucking back an escaping strand of hair and pushing up her glasses, fully intent on understanding her date better through her favorite books. It made her shiver with delight, and she had to force herself to look away.

She replayed that quiet, frozen-time sort of moment over and over that night, doodling swarms of hearts with her new Muji pens all over the assignment she had no hope of focusing on. 

“Yeah, no, she’s over the moon for her.” Yui watched her roommate at her desk from the other side of the room, kicking her feet rhythmically. She didn’t usually mind Yachi being up late, but this was ridiculous. She switched her phone to her other hand and tugged at a thread escaping the hem of her shorts. “Yeah, I know. She’s still doing it. Totally spaced out. Aren’t you, Ya-ya?”

“Mmm?” Yachi smiled and drew another pair of glasses surrounded by shoujo sparkles. “She wants me to make her a playlist...isn’t that wonderful?”

“Suuuuper.” Yui lowered her voice. “She’s going off the deep end, babe.”

“I saw dog hair on her pants today,” Yachi said dreamily. “Do you think she has a dog? Do you think it looks like her? Oh, I’ll bet it’s so elegant...” 

Yui groaned. 

“Hang on, love. I’ll call you back.” She hung up, tossed her phone on her bed, and folded her arms. “Are you even texting her?”

“Mm?” Yachi finally pulled her rosy gaze away from her completely pinked homework to look her roommate sheepishly in the face. “Wh-what did you say?”

“I said, are you even texting her?” Yui ran a hand through her hair. “Look, I know you’re deep in puppy love, but you should start learning more about this girl. You know, talk secrets. Find out if she’s a serial killer or what have you.”

Yachi gasped. 

“Oh- No- She’d never-”

“How do you know? What do you even know about her? Have you had a real conversation with her? Can you look her in the eye?” 

Yachi gulped.

“I- I’m trying! She’s just so- so perfect- An angel! And I’m just...”

“Totally adorable,” Yui muttered, rolling her eyes. “Look, Yacchan. She’s human too. Take a deep fuckin’ breath and start talking to her like a person, alright?”

Embarrassed as she was, Yachi tried. She had to have Yui read over each text at first to make sure she wasn’t making a fool of herself, but slowly, she became more comfortable texting her...whatever she was. Her Kiyoko-san. It was easier over text, actually. Less staring the sun in the face and more...approachable. Even so, Yachi started to wonder if Yui was right.

She hardly knew anything about Kiyoko. 

They were attending the same college, of course. And she was some kind of business major. Or… or language? Something like that? But she had to have had a class in the fine arts building, or else why had they bumped into each other? And she had a dog, or maybe she did, but she never talked about having one, and where in town could a student have an apartment that allowed pets? Was she rich? She dressed like it, but maybe she was just careful with her money and had good taste. Yachi wished she could say the same thing for her all-over-the-place wardrobe. Sometimes it made her feel childish next to the put-together Kiyoko-san. Once a neon strawberry sock, always a neon strawberry sock. 

Maybe Yui was right. Here she was obsessing over the woman, and what did she really know about her? Practically nothing, except little things like how much sugar she took in her coffee (surprisingly three, and even marshmallows when they were available) and the way her eyes glittered when she laughed (enchanting, like magic spring water that granted eternal life only to the worthy). What they really needed was to sit down and talk to each other like adults. They could have a date. A real date. A talking date. Where they could find out more about each other. And maybe where their relationship was going. Especially that.

She typed and retyped her text, read it aloud to Yui and rewrote it again. It was only a few words, but they needed to be perfect words, the right words, slightly casual but slightly serious and definitely interested but not too interested. Was she coming on too strong? Was her crush too obvious? She had to act like an adult here! A college student who had totally been on other dates before and knew exactly what she was doing. 

The stress was practically unbearable. 

She finally decided on:

/would you like to go out again this weekend?/

Except that wasn't right. She didn't want to go out. She wanted to stay in. Talking would be too difficult in a crowded restaurant, and there were coffees to spill there. She wanted to be with Kiyoko, but she wanted to stay in! Why wasn't there a way to recall a text after sending it? Kiyoko was going to get the wrong idea and everything was going to go bad and-

/I'd love to./

Yachi had to take a break from overthinking things for the third-through-fifteenth times to nearly choke on her lunch. She was lucky it was hard to scream through a mouthful of rice. A reply. A positive reply! And so quick!

And that word. Love. She'd love to go out with Yachi. She would love to be with Yachi again. This weekend. She would love it. 

But before Yachi could float back down to the planet's surface, she got another text.

/There's a movie I wanted to see this weekend. The one with the wedding planner who wins a cruise. Does that sound good to you?/

Usually Yachi would have gotten on her knees and thanked every heavenly being she could think of for this opportunity. Planning things made her even more anxious than usual. Feeling the need to cover every single possible detail tended to send her into overdrive, and while it generally went well for her on school projects, it had not been a successful formula for dates.

But a movie was the exact opposite of what she wanted. You couldn't talk at a movie. You couldn't even learn little things about your date's coffee habits or how they turned pages in a book or how they reacted when you spilled coffee on them like the massive disaster barely passing for a human being you really were inside. You couldn't even look at them. You had to watch the screen the whole time! And was a third and a half date enough to hold hands at the movies? What if it wasn't and she embarrassed herself trying? What if it was but her hands were clammy and Kiyoko got grossed out and left the theater and she never got to see the end of the movie she was really interested in because it reminded her of the most awkward minutes of her life? And what if she went on a game show and lost the grand prize because the pop culture question was about this movie that Yachi had prevented her from seeing the rest of and if it hadn't been for her, Kiyoko could have won a brand new car and completely changed her life but instead she got no new car and no new life and no movie and no almost girlfriend?

Yachi took a deep breath, slapped her cheeks as hard as she could, and tried to think like Yui would. Everything was an opportunity, and so was this! One more date might bring them closer together. They might be able to talk after the movie. And holding hands was an actual possibility! This would put another date in the much-lacking success column. And it was sort of adorable that Kiyoko liked movies about wedding planners going on cruises and finding love and color palette inspiration on the high seas. Okay, it was really, really adorable.

/yes!! id love to!!!/

Maybe that was too many exclamation points for a rational, experienced adult, but she was too excited to hold it in. This could really be it. The Date that started everything. Or maybe the rest of everything.

They would see the 5 o'clock showing on Saturday, they decided. They would meet at the theater, not at the station. And maybe (maybe????) they would have dinner afterward. Kiyoko hadn't said anything, of course, but movies were usually an hour and a half to two hours long, which would put them getting out at seven or almost seven, and that was clearly dinner time. Wouldn't it be a little strange to just say their goodbyes then? If she didn't want to do dinner, why pick the early movie? Or maybe she just wanted the cheaper one. Did she really want the cheaper one, or did she just think Yachi could only pay for the cheaper one? Did she not want them to be seen by the late night movie crowd?

But then Yachi, who could never leave well enough alone, looked up the show times, it became clear that there was no 5 o’clock show. Because it was a new movie. There was a 7 o’clock one, and a 10 o’clock one, and a midnight one. 7:00 seemed the most reasonable, but what if she wanted later? There were too many options. And that was not according to plan. And it especially blew her dinner hopes out of the water. Or maybe not? Maybe they could go to dinner first? And talk there? But what if they talked about something deep and it got awkward? Like what if she wanted to keep dating but didn’t think they were girlfriends? What if she didn’t want to keep dating at all? Yachi’s brain chased its tail in circles, and the longer it took Kiyoko to reply to her desperate text about the movie times, the more closely her thought process came to resemble a tornado in a marble factory. 

Two days before their date, she finally texted back.

/I think that should be okay./

She thought? What was making her unsure? Was that a confident I think or a wobbly I think or did she even think about thinking or how her thinking would be thought about? Did she mean anything by it, or nothing by it? Why did it take her so long to reply? Did she just forget? Was their date forgettable? Was Yachi forgettable? Was she just really busy and Yachi was being totally unfair to her about how much she did or did not remember to think about her?

It was hard to focus on schoolwork. It was hard to focus on anything. Yui claimed she’d told her to relax thirty-five times over the course of four days, but it didn’t seem to be helping. It took two hours of tiny food videos and the Animal Crossing soundtrack to get her to sleep the night before, and Yui ran out of pillows to throw at her. 

And then it was Saturday. The big day. Their fourth (third and a half) date. And possibly the start of something big and new and wonderful.

Oh god. What was she going to wear?

She tore her closet apart. Kiyoko always looked so elegant and grown up and put together, and what did Yachi have? Pastels. Prints. Skirts that floofed when she twirled. It was all kid stuff! And sure, maybe she was comfortable in that style, but she needed to look like a person who could handle a serious relationship! A girlfriend! She couldn’t think of any girls in relationships that wore starry overall-shorts and pink peter-pan collars with platforms. How was Kiyoko going to respect her if she dressed like a kid or some kind of idol? 

But she had nothing! Nothing respectable, anyway. Her stuffiest, business-iest blouse cut off the circulation in her wrists and made her feel like dying. The suit she had worn for the interview to get into her program was at the cleaner’s. And… had been. For a while. She made a note of that in one of her planners and dove back into the growing pile that had once been her closet. She could steal some of Yui’s clothes, but her roommate was at a game, and Yachi felt bad about borrowing without asking, and besides, Yui was taller anyway. And she had muscles. Her clothes would look too lose on Yachi. 

She covered her face and groaned. This was a disaster. A disaster! She was going to look like a clown next to Kiyoko and her tasteful, elegant date outfit she had probably planned ahead of time like a reasonable person! Yachi kicked a ruffly pink thing in frustration, missed, and landed flat on her ass. She almost started to cry, but she was too surprised by her landing to even think about it.

Why did she have to overthink everything? Why couldn’t this stuff be easy and fun and carefree and adorable like in the movies, or in manga? Everybody else seemed to have a great time dating! Why did she always end up freaking out about polka dots or coffee or cute handwriting? And meanwhile Kiyoko was probably cool as a cucumber, because why wouldn’t she be, with her perfect cute face and her perfect cute voice and her perfect cute style and her perfect cute elegance? She knew what she was doing! She probably just wanted to have fun and meet someone nice, and here Yachi was, turning her closet into a disaster and analyzing every detail for meaning! What if there was no meaning?? What if there was no point at all?

She flopped on top of the general sweater area and kicked her feet in the air. This was so stupid! She always did this! She was turning a molehill into a mountain, whatever a mole hill was. A big, stupid, gorgeous, perfect mountain. With perfect moles. But it was just a movie! A movie, for crying out loud! They weren’t even going to look at each other for two hours. What the hell did it matter what she wore?

But it did matter. Because she really, really, really, really wanted Kiyoko to like her.

Then...why shouldn’t she strive to make Kiyoko the real her? Wasn’t that the whole point of the talk? Getting to know each other in a real way, instead of a nervous dating way? Maybe she could at least be subtle about it. The big soft sweater with the moon on it that she’d found at a clearance sale, comfy shoes, and a reasonable skirt. Not too over the top, but not too restrained, either. And the cooling weather was a great excuse to get a little cozy. Maybe it would lead to hand holding.

She grinned at herself in the mirror. This was alright! It was more than alright! She was going to do this, and it was going to be great!

Her phone interrupted her self-affirmations by vibrating until it took a nose dive off of her desk. Yachi lunged for it, scattering the clothing again, and held her breath as she pulled up the new text. Or a lot of new texts. 

/Cant maek it so srory/  
/So sory im so sorry/  
/Om sick/  
/Reschedule later/

Yachi’s heart stopped. Sick? Couldn’t make it? And so sudden. Did she just find out? And that typing! It didn’t seem like Kiyoko at all! What could make her so sick that she couldn’t spell anymore? Was this some kind of emergency??

/are you okay? whats wrong??/

/Im finne i just cant go to the moive im so sorry/

/you don’t sound fine!!!/

/I am Its ok dotn worry about mme/

Yachi bit her lip. No matter what Kiyoko said, this was pretty worrying. To cancel a date that close, and to text something totally out of character like that...It had to be bad. She resisted the urge to deflate. What use was fretting over a date that wouldn’t happen when her Kiyoko was sick? Really sick?? If she was going to prove herself a good candidate for a girlfriend, she needed to act like one! And a good girlfriend wouldn’t just leave this alone. She’d take action!

She grabbed her phone and her purse and ran out of the room. And then she returned to get her shoes and lock the door. And then she was off for real! She hopped on her bike and pedaled as hard as she could to the convenience store. There was no hope of her cooking even if they had had ingredients and materials to make dinner in their room. She had to hope the store would have something edible. What was good for sick people? Something substantial, to help her recover? Something soft and easy on her stomach? It was sort of hard, not knowing what kind of sick she was. She could easily choose the wrong kind of food, be totally useless, and make a terrible impression.

So she bought some of everything. It’d be like a picnic! If Kiyoko couldn’t eat something, Yachi would eat it. Problem solved. And they would have their dinner to talk! Maybe this would turn out better than the movie. Not that she was happy that Kiyoko was sick, of course, but not having to sit in the dark and ignore each other would give them a chance to really think about things. Like whether they were a thing.

She hefted her armload of packaged foods onto the counter. The clerk eyed her, but thankfully didn’t say anything. Being so close to a university had probably taught him to stop asking questions. Before he checked out the last of her purchases, she threw in a little something sweet to cheer Kiyoko up. Even if she couldn’t eat it, she’d appreciate the gesture, right?

It was dark by the time Yachi biked to Kiyoko’s apartment, which she knew was near the mall from their bookstore date and she knew was red from the snapchats Kiyoko had sent and small, from her complains about the upstairs neighbors who didn’t live there anymore but still got suspicious mail she had to send back to the postal service. It wasn’t too difficult to find, actually, and for that Yachi was endlessly thankful. Had she gotten lost in the city, especially at night, she would have definitely panicked and Yui was too busy with her game to come get her. At least she had her heavy flashlight for self defense, but it was dark, so dark--why weren’t there more streetlights here?? Could the city not afford them? Did they not care about young women who were in love and sick and vulnerable?

She wheeled her bike into the rack and secured it, running her thumb over her fried egg keychain for good luck. She was just bringing food, right? And...Well, it would be okay if Kiyoko didn’t want to see her. She had said not to come. And Yachi hadn’t been invited to her house. What if she couldn’t even come to the door? How long should she stand there, looking like an idiot? The curtains were all closed, even though the sky had been cloudy all day. she couldn’t even peek in like a weirdo to see if Kiyoko was home. What if Kiyoko didn’t even want to see her or the food she’d brought? What if she’d faked the illness to get out of the date???

No, no, no! Kiyoko wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t. She’d probably be happy to see Yachi. And if not, it wouldn’t be because she hated her. It would just be because she was too sick to have someone over. It wasn’t her fault at all.

Yachi swallowed and stepped up to the door with her bags of convenience store food. She could do this. She could do this. 

She could do this.

She rang the doorbell.

And waited.

And...waited...

What if she had been asleep and didn’t hear it? But it would be rude to ring twice. But she hadn’t answered in some time…

She bit her lip and rang one more time, as gently as she could. A strange sound came from inside the apartment, something Yachi couldn’t put her finger on. Kind of a thumping, or a skittering, or...Or maybe something big. Something really big. Kiyoko, sick or not, was definitely not that big. What could possibly be in her apartment that took such big footsteps? Was it a burglar? Was Kiyoko being robbed? Was she being robbed right now, as she slept, or had Kiyoko cancelled the date because she was being robbed and didn’t want the police to be called because the robber had threatened her?? And the robber was still in there! What if he came outside and attacked Yachi and stole her food, or worse? She only had her flashlight to defend herself, and her reflexes were nothing like Yui’s! She could die! She could die in the city and it could take a whole week for her to show up on the news! And what if Kiyoko was already dead? Or worse? What was worse than being dead and robbed?? What if it had happened to her and Yachi hadn’t been able to do anything because she thought she was supposed to bring soup?? 

Yachi backed up from the door, clutching her flashlight like it would save her from the kind of person that broke into a young woman’s apartment and burgled her for the fun of it. Yachi’s heart pounded like the soundtrack in a horror movie, but her legs refused to carry her any further. They felt like jelly, immobile and useless and completely unprotected from burglars. 

The scratchy thumping sound grew louder, and louder, and Yachi gulped and tried to embrace death. No more tests if she died in the city. No awkward love questions. No Kiyoko though, and she had wasted all this money and time on this trip just to die alone and afraid and girlfriendless, with no hand to hold-

Something slammed into the door. It made a huge sound, a terrible sound. There was no way it could hold up to much of that. Why wouldn’t the burglar just open the door and kill her? Was he injured? Had Kiyoko, in the throes of death, somehow knowing Yachi would try to come to her apartment unannounced and un-asked for and carrying absolutely no protection whatsoever beyond a useless heavy flashlight, injured the terrible person to give her a chance to run away? 

Sorry, Kiyoko. Her legs were ruining that perfect plan. She was going to die in her purple thrift-store moon sweater and it probably still had a tag in the armpit. Maybe she would at least faint first. It seemed like a real possibility. Her blood felt loud in her ears, too loud, like it was going places it shouldn’t and she was going to bleed out before anyone could even wave a knife at her. The thing slammed against the door again and Yachi’s legs remembered their purpose for the briefest, shining-est moment before becoming jelly again, making her stumble backward over a crack in the pavement and fall on her ass for the second time that day. She was dead. Her heart caught in her throat and she felt wetness on her cheeks she hadn’t noticed leaving her eyes. She hoped Kiyoko had thought of her in her last seconds. Yachi was definitely going to think of her. 

The door flung open and Yachi screamed and crows that had been settling in the street trees around the apartment filled the air like a bad omen. The banging thing was no robber. Was it even a person? It was big, and black, and human-shaped, but so big, too big! The streetlights were useless, and Yachi’s vision was fading at the edges from pure terror. How foolish she had been to think that exams and embarrassing dates were frightening. This was real fear. She was too afraid to scream again, too afraid to move or even reach for her phone. She just clutched the flashlight with white knuckles and tried to remember how to pray. Why did people watch horror movies when they could just try to bring their almost-girlfriends dinner? 

The black hairy thing lunged at Yachi and her terror caught in her throat. What was this thing? Had it eaten Kiyoko? Was it going to eat her? Was it going to eat her soup after eating her and Kiyoko to complete its meal?? Its claws gripped her shoulders, so strong that even the thought of struggling seemed useless, and its teeth flashed in the low light, dangerous and sharp and predatory. So she was the prey. Weak and defenseless and small, and it was so heavy and strong and big. There was no hope of escape. 

Just as it leaned so close to Yachi that she could feel the monster’s hot breath on her face, the clouds finally broke apart far enough to reveal the bright light of the full moon and illuminate the area in front of Kiyoko’s apartment. The beast’s face scrunched up in the light. Something in those eyes seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite catch what it was before she felt something wet and sloppy, moving to lick her almost like a dog, and, well, it was almost endearing in a way, but she was too frozen with fear to react. A monster? A monster preparing to eat her? Or a dog? Kiyoko’s dog? But it was so big...

It pulled back, the light catching those grey-blue eyes again like troubled waters or uncertain weather. Familiar eyes. 

A familiar smell, even. 

She grabbed her flashlight and pointed it straight at the creature. The light was strong and close enough to stun both of them, but Yachi wasn’t about to let something as simple as blindness stop her. She shoved the light in the monster’s face more aggressively. It covered its eyes to protect itself from the high beam, but even with such a strange and monstrous shape, there was no mistaking that face, or those moles. 

Not Kiyoko’s dog. Kiyoko. 

Caught in the spotlight, she seemed to come back to herself, pulling away with horror dawning on her semi-wolfish face. She still looked like Kiyoko, but different, too… Big and hairy and strong, but still sleek and beautiful and shy, and those moles! It had to be her! But she was…

What was she? What was this? How could something like this happen to Kiyoko, who was beautiful and strong and pure and angelic and...mysterious? How could Yachi not have noticed? 

“I- I’m so sorry,” Kiyoko whispered. “I- I didn’t mean to- I-”

Her voice was different like this. Lower, somehow. Yachi sort of liked it, not that she had the presence of mind to admit it to herself. Sort of growly and deep and bigger in some way, but still definitely Kiyoko. Even though it shook with fear instead of being fresh-water steady like it usually was. She looked like she wanted to run away. It dawned on her that Kiyoko may really be afraid of Yachi doing something terrible to her, just for being what she was, and the cornered-animal look in her eyes broke Yachi’s tiny gay heart.

“I brought you some soup,” Yachi said matter of factly, like it wasn’t currently soaking into the pavement around her. “Because you’re sick.”

Kiyoko stared at her like she was crazy. Maybe she was. But she desperately wanted to wipe that terrified look off her face, even though she had been the one scared witless only seconds before. 

“I’m happy you’re alive…” She smiled softly. “I thought a robber or something-”

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Kiyoko sat back on her haunches, huge hands close to her chest. Maybe because she was nervous. Maybe to keep from looking threatening. The moonlight glistened in her fur and glasses and...the tears in her eyes. Yachi sat up. 

“What- What should I say?” She was afraid to say the wrong thing, to ruin everything, to drive Kiyoko away--but she was the one who had attacked her! 

“Hitoka-chan, I’m a werewolf!” 

“O-oh. I see.”

“You see??” Kiyoko stared at her blankly. 

“Well, not very well- the streetlights are kind of dim, and-” 

“Hitoka-chan, I attacked you! I’m- I’m a monster!” Her voice cracked desperately, like this was something she’d been dreading for a very long time. It was painful to listen to.

“You still look like Kiyoko-san to me,” Yachi whispered, wondering where her sudden bravery had come from. Maybe it was the threat of losing their relationship, but her overwhelming fear was melting and reshaping into something hard and protective. She never wanted to see that look in Kiyoko’s eyes again. 

Kiyoko just kept staring at her. 

“You’re not...” The words almost caught in her throat, but Yachi waited patiently. She didn’t really have a choice, but she liked to think that she was doing it on purpose. “You’re not afraid of me?”

“A little,” Yachi admitted sheepishly. It seemed wrong to lie. “But...now that I know it’s you, and not something scary...” She looked down at the pavement, blushing. “I know I can trust you.”

“You can’t!” Kiyoko’s words startled Yachi into looking back up.

“I-?”

“I- I knocked you down- I almost- Hitoka-chan, I tried to prevent this! We- you never should have...”

“So...” Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Yachi was feeling even denser than usual. “You’re not sick?”

Kiyoko shook her head, cheeks pink with shame. 

“Not...in the traditional sense, no.”

“Oh, good!” Yachi laughed nervously, the tension of the situation making her limbs feel overly tight. “The food I brought you is probably ruined, so...”

“Ahh...you brought me food...” Kiyoko licked her lips unconsciously, then caught herself. “You- oh, it’s all over you! Oh, I’m so sorry, you didn’t have to do that!” She stood and helped Yachi to her feet, reminding her just how short and small and shaky she was. 

“I wanted to do it!” Yachi balled her hands into fists. “I thought I could help you! I felt so bad you had to miss the date-” She glanced up and down at Kiyoko, and flushed lightly. “I guess...this is why?”

Kiyoko smiled. 

“Well...even though it turned out like this, I...I’m really glad you decided to do that for me.”

Yachi’s heart fluttered. 

“Yeah? I mean, m-me too.” She felt her own cheeks warm up, and hoped it wasn’t as obvious as it felt. But Kiyoko just smiled at her, like she was something rare or precious instead of normal, regular Yachi. It made her feel strange. Strange, but thrilling. 

“Oh, oh no!” Kiyoko came to her senses and grabbed Yachi by the shoulders. Yachi stared back at her, hoping those powerful hands knew their own strength before something worse happened to her sweater. “You must be so cold! Let’s get you something to change into!”

And Yachi, not about to protest, let Kiyoko lead her into the apartment. It was lucky that it was such a small complex, she figured. It seemed hard enough for Kiyoko to duck under the doorframe, let alone go up several flights of stairs. Maybe that was why she lived here. How long had Kiyoko been a werewolf, anyway? Was that a natural sort of thing, or had it happened to her? Had she been alone this whole time? Was it hard? Was it lonely? 

She couldn’t imagine. 

Kiyoko let her in the house and shut and locked the door behind them. Yachi couldn’t help but notice the scratches in the wood. What had driven her to do that? The food, maybe? Or something else? Perhaps whatever it was that was making her hands shake. 

“Here’s the bathroom.” She gestured at it, then, seemingly aware of how large her paws were, pulled them back against her chest to fidget nervously. “I’ll...I’ll get you some clothes to change into.”

“Your c-clothes?” She was going to wear Kiyoko’s clothes? They’d be too big. But they’d smell like her. And they’d be so elegant...would they even look right on her? Would it matter? Would it be a hoodie? She’d always adored the hoodie-trope in manga, but once she’d realized she wasn’t exactly after a boyfriend, she’d figured there was no chance. But Kiyoko was taller than her. Wearing her hoodie was an actual possibility. A real, attainable, thrilling possibility. 

“Ah...” Kiyoko tucked her hair behind her ear shyly. “If that’s alright with you?”

“Y- Y- Absolutely!” Yachi covered her mouth. That was much louder than necessary. Why was she so awkward? But Kiyoko laughed, not mean-spiritedly, and she felt all of her nerves melt away. This was Kiyoko, the same Kiyoko, her Kiyoko! She probably understood. If she wasn’t alright with the way Yachi was, she would have said something by now. Right?

She hightailed it to the bathroom, letting Kiyoko go to her room to find her a change of clothes. Yachi closed the door carefully and took the biggest, deepest breath she could. Her nerves were squeezing her into an inescapable ball of anxiety. This was too much. It was almost hard to breathe. She had to chill out before she made Kiyoko as nervous as she was. 

She leaned against the counter and tried to calm down. It was okay. Everything was okay. Yachi took another deep breath and started taking her clothes off. There was no sense in panicking in wet, smelly clothes when you could… panic in your crush’s apartment. Mostly naked. Completely exposed. Was she supposed to have undressed? Should she have waited?? What was the right thing to do in this situation? Had anyone ever been in this situation before? Was there even a right thing to do at all?

Actually, it wasn’t okay. It was the farthest from okay that it could have been, theoretically speaking. This was worse than clammy hands at the movies, or spilled coffee, or some other horrific number of terrible possibilities her brain could cook up in the dark of night. Kiyoko was literally a monster. A real, live, Halloween-movie, spooky-scary werewolf. 

And yet. She was still beautiful. Beautiful, and amazing, and kind… She really was perfect, but a different kind of perfect. The real kind. The kind with flaws, the kind with problems. She was a real person, no different than Yachi was. Well. Kind of different than Yachi was, but not in the way she’d been thinking all along. A different sort of different that-

God. She rubbed her face. Her mind was tying itself in knots. She had to relax. She had to get the soup off of her. She had to get a change of clothes. She had to talk to Kiyoko about...things. One step at a time. She could do this. IT wasn’t that big of a deal. She’d faced a werewolf, so she could probably face a serious relationship talk. Was that unfair to Kiyoko? Maybe. Probably. She shouldn’t be so harsh…

She used a washcloth to wipe the rest of the soup off, glad it hadn’t soaked completely through her skirt. Borrowing Kiyoko’s underwear seemed completely out of the realm of possibility, and it was a relief that she wouldn’t have to face that, at least. It felt good to be clean, even though it meant admitting defeat on the picnic front. Maybe some of the plastic-wrapped rice balls and buns were okay? But the soup had been a full on disaster. It had probably been a bad idea from the beginning, but then she never would have found out Kiyoko’s secret. As fearsome as the moment had been, part of her felt like it was something that had drawn them closer together. 

She smiled to herself and hoped she wasn’t just jumping to conclusions again. 

A gentle knock on the door made her jump and drop the skirt she was trying to sponge broth out of with a towel she hoped wasn’t expensive. 

“Y-yes?” She reached down to pick it up, but seeing it all spread out and stained on the bathroom floor just made her want to give up. There was no salvaging it without a washing machine, and standing here ruining Kiyoko’s towels wasn’t going to do her any good. 

“Hitoka-chan? I’ve brought you some clothes...I hope another sweater is alright? It was a shame, I liked your other one.” Kiyoko sounded just as unsure as Yachi felt for once, and something about it was incredibly nice. She wasn’t the only one who was nervous and awkward. It felt good. And it really sounded cute. She liked her sweater? Her silly cheap sweater? 

“Ah- Sure!” Maybe a sweater was as close to a hoodie as she was going to get for now. Yachi was very, very okay with it. 

“Should I come in? Or...” Yachi gulped, further regretting taking her clothes off. How was Kiyoko going to give her the clothes? The gap under the door wasn’t tall enough. And Yachi didn’t have anything to cover herself with. 

“I- I-” What should she say? What could she do?? Just hours ago she had been fretting about hand holding. They definitely weren’t at this level yet! And how would they even get there? Even if they had been, it would have been awkward! Yachi could feel her whole body blushing. There was no way out. Maybe she could pretend it was like the locker rooms in gym, but...but she got flustered there too. That was no use! There was nothing she could do!

“Right...I’ll...I’ll leave the clothes at the door, alright?” Was it just Yachi, or could she hear a blush in Kiyoko’s voice too? Was Kiyoko thinking about her naked? Was Kiyoko thinking about her naked and blushing? Did Kiyoko want to see? ...Did Yachi want Kiyoko to see?

But that was a question for another day. Yachi could hear her large footsteps leave the hallway and head back toward the rest of the apartment...the kitchen, maybe? She hadn’t seen enough of it earlier to know, but surely Kiyoko had gone somewhere she couldn’t see the bathroom door open in order to preserve Yachi’s dignity and modesty. Bless her, that actual angel on Earth. No soul could compare, fuzzy or otherwise. Yachi unlocked and opened the door, giving herself the smallest possible window to grab the pile of soft, warm clothes Kiyoko had left her and then shutting it as fast as possible. Not that she didn’t trust Kiyoko. More that she didn’t trust herself not to do something stupid, like knock the door open wide and tumble out in her panties. 

She shivered and locked it again to protect herself from herself. 

The sweater was a delicate cream color, cabled and simple. No silly, childish moons. It was beautiful, really, and she savoured imagining it on Kiyoko. It would have looked beautiful on her, but when Yachi tugged it on, she just felt like she was swimming. It was nice, though, even if it didn’t look pretty. She felt so warm and comfortable, like being wrapped in a blanket, and pulling the collar up to her nose, she found that it really did smell like Kiyoko, or at least Kiyoko’s laundry detergent. It was good enough, and it made her feel like she was in some kind of cheesy shoujo manga. A dream come true. 

Plus werewolves.

But Yachi was willing to adapt. 

As she reached for the black cotton shorts, she heard Kiyoko return to her post outside of the bathroom door. Yachi smiled imagining her there, tall and beautiful and cautious. Maybe it was a little strange of her to find something like that beautiful, but she didn’t particularly care. So… so what if Kiyoko was a werewolf? She was the prettiest werewolf Yachi had ever seen.

And she seemed to read Yachi’s thoughts, or at least some of them.

“Hitoka-chan...about...all this...” Her hesitant voice floated through the crack of the door, and Yachi almost fell on her face trying to put the shorts on. 

“Ah...yes?” She held onto the counter for good measure.

“I...” Kiyoko’s voice wobbled. “I understand if you want to break up...Since...I lied to you...and..I’m...”

“B-b-break up??” Kiyoko thought they were already a thing? Kiyoko thought she’d want to stop dating?? Kiyoko thought being a werewolf (or at least hiding it) was a deal breaker? Should it have been a dealbreaker? Should Yachi have wanted to break up? Was she too infatuated to see reason? If that was reason, she had no interest in it. “I- no! Not at all!”

“Really?” The hope in Kiyoko’s voice made Yachi’s chest feel tight. 

“Y-yeah! Why would- I wouldn’t want to stop, just because…” She didn’t know how to phrase it. She didn’t know how to talk about this at all. What was offensive? What was okay? She vaguely remembered being taught about werewolves in school, but, try as she might, she couldn’t force anything useful to come to mind. 

“You don’t think...” Kiyoko’s voice grew soft. “You aren’t worried about me being contagious, or- or-?” 

Yachi blinked. She really hadn’t thought about it. She hadn’t thought about any of this at all. Was she supposed to be concerned? Would a normal person be worried about this kind of stuff? Should she have been worried about Kiyoko biting her or something and turning her into a werewolf? Or dinner? But she just couldn’t help that her mind went blank when Kiyoko walked past. Being afraid of her, or, at least, being afraid of something other than being out of her league or driving her off, had never even occurred to Yachi. Maybe she really was foolish. 

“...Are you?” Oh no, that was probably offensive. Was that offensive? It was probably really offensive! 

“I’m not! I promise!” She paused, maybe collecting herself. Yachi wished she could see through the door, but was sort of glad she didn’t have to face Kiyoko for this. It would have been hard to know where to look. Was it inappropriate to look at the part of her that was transformed? But it was so hard to look at her face already, let alone make eye contact! 

“I...I’m on medication. It helps to regulate my cycle, too. So I’m less dangerous, and...it makes the transformation less painful.” 

“What, like birth control?” Yachi regretted her careless words instantly, but Kiyoko’s startled laugh from the other side of the door relieved her. 

“Yes, like birth control...Though, it’s never pleasant when my cycles intersect...” 

“Oh, that sounds awful!! I can’t imagine!” 

“It really is...” Even lower, Kiyoko’s laughter was heavenly. “Especially since chocolate gives me a stomachache when I’m like this.”

Whoops. The cake she had brought was chocolate. Maybe it was a good thing it had been ruined. 

“What do you usually do? When you’re...like this?” Yachi felt nervous asking, afraid to say the wrong thing and offend or scare off Kiyoko, but it was hard not to be curious. 

“Er...Read...watch television...sleep. ...I can’t go out, so I just have to busy myself around here. But it’s better than, well, something bad happening.”

“Has something bad ever...happened?” Yachi’s head filled with gory scenes, with Kiyoko as both the predator and prey. Someone like her wouldn’t last long in a dangerous city without being dangerous themselves, and it was hard to imagine Kiyoko as the dangerous type, even after what had happened earlier. 

“What? Oh, no! Of course not! Usually it’s fine, and I don’t even want to leave my apartment! But...”

Yachi’s breath caught in her throat. 

“...But?”

Kiyoko hesitated.

“But...today...” Something heavy pressed against the door, and Yachi held still, breath shallow, waiting to know more. To know what she hoped Kiyoko was going to say.

“But. Today.” Her words were almost too soft to make out. “I just wanted to see you, Hitoka-chan.”

“M-me?”

Kiyoko said nothing for a moment, and Yachi almost wondered if she had nodded instead of responding. 

“I...I smelled you out there.” Oh, dear. Was that a good thing? “I’m- I’m so sorry if I frightened you, but I just got so excited-I had to see you- I had to-” Her words were suddenly muffled, but they sounded mysteriously like ‘kiss you’. 

“Wh-what?” Yachi’s heartbeat leapt and danced. Was this for real? Were her ears filling in the blanks she wanted instead of the ones that were there? “Wh-what was that?”

“I wanted...” The words seemed painful to enunciate. “To...kiss...you.”

“That was a kiss?” Oh. Ohhh. A kiss?? A kiss! That slobbery mess was supposed to be a kiss! An excited, couldn’t-be-restrained kiss! A disaster, maybe, but a kiss nonetheless! Kiyoko had tried to kiss her! Kiyoko had wanted to kiss her so badly that she had burst out of her apartment to find her! 

Wow.

Kiyoko’s laugh was painfully embarrassed this time. 

“Yes...yes, it...it was. I got ahead of myself.”

Wow. Wow! Yachi touched her lips. A kiss. A kiss from Kiyoko. What her fans wouldn’t do…

“I just- I’m so sorry, Hitoka-chan, you were probably so frightened- And- Did you even want to kiss me? Do you even- Are we-”

“I did!” Yachi couldn’t let her fumble over her words like that. That was a Yachi thing to do, not a Kiyoko thing, and she wasn’t about to let her suffer. “I mean...it was sort of slobbery. And awkward, and- I wasn’t expecting-.” Why wouldn’t the worst things stop falling out of her mouth. She wanted to crawl into the ground and stay there. “But- But I’d like to try again! With you! I- I was excited just to hold your hand!”

“...Really?”

“Yes!!” She flexed her hands at her sides, palms sweaty with the thought of something so wonderful. She inched closer to the door. “Yes, I really want to! I was- for our date, I wanted to-”

“Oh, Hitoka-chan, I’m so sorry I ruined our date...” 

Something in Yachi warmed up every time Kiyoko said her name. It felt good. So, so good. She wanted to hear it again and again and again. It felt safe in her mouth, safe and appreciated.

“Kiyoko-san, it wasn’t your fault!! And-” She swallowed. “And we can have another!” And another, and another and another-

“You want to?” Kiyoko sounded incredulous, like dating her wasn’t the best thing to ever happen to Yachi. “Even though...you’re so cute and I’m…I’m a…a monster?” 

Yachi’s throat went dry. Her thoughts went dry. What? What?? How was she supposed to respond to that?? Kiyoko thought she was cute?? What could she say? How could she possibly respond? 

“I- of course-I... You-you think I’m cute? B-but you’re so beautiful!”

“Beautiful?” The word was heavy in her mouth, a rare treat to be savored. “I’m...Beautiful?”

“You’re perfect,” Yachi whispered. “Angelic, even.”

A choked sound came from behind the door, and it was finally too much for Yachi to handle. She unlocked and opened it, ready to face the consequences of her words, ready to look her probably-girlfriend in the face. This was something she had to do. Something she wanted to do, more than anything.

They stared at each other for a second, both surprised and unsure how to proceed, but then Kiyoko hugged her, and Yachi hugged back, and both of them pretended not to notice the others’ tears. It was better not to know, just to feel. Just to be close and be loved and be held. 

“So...” Yachi barely raised her voice, speaking her question directly to Kiyoko’s shoulder. “Does...this mean...we’re girlfriends?”

“...What?” Kiyoko pulled back a little to look at her. Yachi felt herself begin to sweat again.

“I just- thought- I wasn’t sure, if two and a half dates was enough to-”

“Oh, Hitoka-chan, of course! Of course I’ll be your girlfriend, if you’ll have me!!” 

“I will! Of- of course I will! If... you’ll have me??” 

Kiyoko laughed and spun her around, but Yachi felt secure in her strong arms. She, for one, had absolutely zero problems with dating a werewolf. Not if it was going to be like this. 

“Absolutely!! Oh, absolutely!” She pulled Yachi in for a kiss, this one much more on target than the last, and Yachi was more than happy to return it. A girlfriend! She had a girlfriend! A girlfriend who thought she was cute! A girlfriend with soft lips and beautiful shining hair and who was...sort of unique, but what did that matter, in the grand scheme of things? They were officially Together with a capital T, no awkward movie date or obsessive tally system involved. 

It just felt good.

And from there, once some of the excitement had worn off, they sat together on the couch and drank tea and had the very long discussion that they had needed all along. About boundaries, and personalities, and secrets that didn’t need to be secrets anymore. They decided what to call each other (Kiyoko insisted that leaving off the honorific was fine, but it still felt electric on Hitoka’s tongue) and when and where PDA was okay (Kiyoko blushed when talking about holding hands even though, at that point, Yachi was sitting on her lap), and they talked for hours on more things, seemingly unimportant details that built into whole-people things, like their majors and where they were from and what they liked to do in their spare time and, perhaps most excitingly, if Kiyoko, in her werewolf form, liked to be pet. 

The answer was yes. Very much.

It felt so good to know and be sure, to love and be loved, to know where there were going and how they were going to get there. It was the most relaxed Yachi had been since the whole thing had started, and then it got even better.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at ceilingfan5 or my writing blog, fan5fics, on tumblr. I might take requests, especially now that this monstrosity is finally over, and once i hit 50 followers on my new writing blog, I'll do a little giveaway. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
